Six Feet Deep And Kicking
by NeverlandSpirit
Summary: It never was supposed to be this way for her but after SHIELD fell, it might have been the only way. Clint never thought he would be assigned to kill the Black Widow again and this time the stakes are higher. Failure might cost you your life and million others too.
1. Chapter 1

**SIX FEET DEEP AND KICKING.**

**CHAPTER ONE.**

"Drop the disc, Romanoff or we will shoot."

She needs to buy time, she needs to assess the situation properly, and she needs a freaking escape plan. Because she needs, desperately needs to see his face one last time. One. Last. Time

She puts on a smirk, the crooked one. "Do you really think threatening my life is going to gain you something? Do you really believe that?" She says as she turns her head slightly to look down the cliff and to her impeding and certain death. It's a huge cliff, a beautiful one to with waves crashing about the shore and the likes. Maybe she would sit there or a while (with a bottle of vodka as company) and enjoy the sounds of nature. Yeah she would definitely do that if the circumstances were different.

There is a sudden struggle among the group of Agents in front of her, footsteps running towards the mass of black cladded agents and then a sudden gasp.

"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! Did you hear me, lower your weapons."

She would recognize that gasp, that hoarse sweet voice anywhere. It was _his'._ And so, only for him, she turns her head black towards the agents. Green meets the deepest of blues and greys and maybe now she can die happy.

"Natasha, listen to me, listen," he says stepping forwards, hand raised in the universal sign of 'I mean no harm' "Drop the disc and we can talk okay? You don't-NATASHA, Damn it-you don't have to do this." He puts another step forward and she retaliates with one backwards.

She has mentally calculated the number of steps she can let herself take before she takes a fall of doom. Two and a half exact steps and then she is a goner.

"Romanoff, we give you until the count of ten. Drop the disc or WE WILL SHOOT." The same agent as before yells and god save him because Clint was just an inch away from snapping the guy's neck.

She is too stubborn and he is too persistent for this to lead anywhere remotely goo or safe. She knows for sure that she isn't going to hand this disc over to anyone and he knows the agents behind him mean serious business.

"I thought you would understand why I am doing this. I thought-I thought wrong." She tells rather harshly, venom laced voice lost somewhere in the howling wind. "I am doing this for _you_, damn it. DON'T YOU GET IT?" This time she takes a step forward. He doesn't budge from his place.

"I know Natasha- I know, but we can live with it too. We can work something out. Believe me, _please."_

She wants to believe him, God she wants to believe him so bad it literally hurts. But they can't live like this. "Don't you get it? We can't live like this Clint. I can't live this. Hiding from everyone. Walking down the streets and have people turn away, hide their children, whisper shit they don't know about. They are treating us like-treating me like I am MEDUSA. Don't you UNDERSTAND?" Does he understand what she's been through?

"10"

"9"

"Natasha-Tasha, come on, just hand over the disc-"

"8"

"7"

"I can't Clint- I can't-"

"6"

"5"

"4"

"STOP THE BLOODY COUNT YOU IDIOTS-Natasha _please_."

"3"

"2"

"I am not sorry"

"1"

He doesn't hear the firing of the guns, doesn't hear the shells clanking softly on the dirt ground. But being Hawkeye, he sees. He sees the first bullet tear the skin and enter her right shoulder. He sees her stumble backward before the second bullet pierces her torso, followed by a third one. Then he sees a moment of sheer panic in those beautiful green orbs replaced by acceptance and suddenly nothing.

"NOOOO!"

He sees her fall, feels himself stumbling down to save her, realize that he couldn't-that it was too late, and wishes to jump in after her. God he wishes to follow her so bad and there isn't an ounce of doubt that he wouldn't, had it not been for these dense bastards holding him back and keeping him from going after her.

Almost all of a sudden, his hearing is restored and he finds himself screaming obscenities over and over. It's also the same time he recognizes the fact that no amount of yelling, screaming, kicking can cure him of this ineffable, insurmountable, blinding pain that has settled over his chest.

"Help me hold him down-Grab his arms." Some agent yells behind him, struggling to get a hold of the inconsolable agent. "Get his arm, dammit and call for back up. Tell them we lost Romanoff"

The first bullet strikes –it strikes _her_ shoulder but the pain registers in _his_ eyes. She stumbles backwards and he stumbles forward and it's like nothing has changed-Their dynamics, trust, moves-it is all the same. The second bullet brings a small degree of pain but a larger level of determination. _'I will take this disc down with me, I swear to god I will'. _The third bullet thoroughly surprises her and she takes her final step before feeling encompassed in nothingness. She panics, she knows he saw the alarm in her but at least she has the disc-so maybe she accepted her doom. And it never felt so good.

It was like flying and falling at the same time. The rush of the air all around you, the feel of gravity pulling you down, the clenching of your stomach, curling of your toes. It was-heaven.

She doesn't close her eyes, in hopes that maybe Clint would come to the edge of the cliff and at least look down at her-he doesn't. And it's too late because she feels the spray of the salty water and not a few seconds later she hits the ocean. The hit was hard enough to leave her dizzy and disoriented enough that she couldn't distinguish up from down and all she could see was the faint crimson oozing from her.

She had just enough energy left to tilt her head and look down at the blessed disc in her hand, smiling before everything faded to black.

Turns out life doesn't flash before your eyes after all.

**18 MONTHS EARLIER.**

SHIELD IS GONE. SHIELD IS GONE. SHIELD IS GONE. Another time, SHIELD IS GONE.

She keeps on rocking herself back and forth on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest and arms tightly wrapped around her legs.

'SHIELD GONE. MY ALIASES GONE. MY SECRETS, MY JOB GONE-MY EVERYTHING IS GONE. Vanished, wiped out, and disappeared-everything.'

"_Everyone's going to find out what a monster you are Natasha."_

"_Your ledger-gushing red-for all to see."_

"_Whom are you going to hide behind now, darling?"_

"_Who are you going to pretend to be huh? All your pretty little personas are gone goody bye, Natasha?"_

"_Are you even a Natasha?"_

The voices are getting louder, taunting her, accusing her, blaming- it's all too much. The walls are suddenly closing in on her and did someone raise the temperature of the room? She feels the acidic path of bile rising up her throat, feels her windpipe closing until she is grasping for breath. _'Don't panic' _she repeats over and over in her head.

She doesn't know how long she sits like that-suffocating but eventually she shakes herself out of it. Panic Attacks are nothing new to her albeit she was never alone during one before. But things have changed and she must live with it.

She can try though can't she-to reverse it?

A couple of deep, calming breaths later, she snatches her phone off the coffee table, closes her eyes, takes another breath and dials. She murmurs a small, pathetic prayer before holding the phone to her ear.

It rings-and rings and continues ringing.

She tries again and it continues to ring again.

More frustrated than angry she hangs up and mentally strikes of Phil's name. Next up in her list-Clint.

Once more, eyes closed, deep breath and dial, hold breath.

It rings once, twice, thrice before he picks it up just long enough for her to sigh a breath of relief before hanging up. It was the cruelest of thing s that could be done to her.

Now, Natasha Romanoff was by no means a fragile little thing. She was strong, independent and the best spy one would ever come across. She was raised in the harshest of places and bloomed to be so _deadly_ beautiful (Physically yes, but mentally and consciously too). She mastered the art of seduction, of manipulation, of deception. She mastered ballet, martial arts, Glocks, machine guns, bazookas and everything in the middle. She has been tortured, burned, and beaten, water-boarded, electrocuted, cheated, and raped. And yet she took it all with a headstrong attitude. It was nothing out of the ordinary for her, it wasn't even unpleasant.

But what Clint Barton just did to her was the cruelest of all fate to her. It made her want to pop a hydrogen cyanide in her mouth and burn her insides. She could have been dying for all he knew and _yet_ he hung up. It was incomprehensible, numbing-what he just did. It also set a lot of things clear.

She doesn't call him again.

She tries calling Steve next. His cell phone was out of range.

Deep breath-Stark was next.

Mercifully she lets herself believe, he answers on the second ring.

"Heylo" It was Stark. It was the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist-she wants to hug him for that.

"Stark-Stark it's me Romanoff."

A slight delay of response later. "Roman-who?" And it's enough to set this deep exhaustive panic in her. So deep that she cannot for the life of her formulate any rational thoughts or words. He has forgotten her. That's it-he doesn't remember who she is. It's the one explanation she provides herself.

"It's me, Stark. Natasha Romanoff- Natalie, I worked as Natalie for you for a while. We defeated Loki together in New York. SHIELD Agent, Natasha Romanoff." Its desperation at its worst.

"I am sorry but isn't SHIELD like dead." And the line just like SHIELD goes dead.

'Hello-Hello, Stark. Stark-_please_"

By this point, she is hardly holding back the scream that is choking her. Her head throbs and her eyes burn with denial, with anger, guilt, pain and overwhelming stress. Who's next on her list to call? Steve, he's probably not going to be of any help roaming around searching for the winter soldier. Bruce? She doesn't even have the good doctor's number (a fact she curses herself at). She could trace him but not anymore. What's left, call Thor? Yeah that's it call Thor who is in bloody Asgard. She knows the reception there is fan-freaking-tastic.

She is panicking, she knows she is. So she does the only thing she can order her body to do that is would follow.

She stumbles heavily, shaking, for the light switch and turns every last switch off, enveloping her apartment in complete darkness before collapsing on the rug of her living room. 'Deep breathe' she tells herself. 'Okay. Start' and she does counting from backwards from a hundred.

She wakes up when the sun harshly spills light directly on her eyes. Moaning, she rolls over on her back, shielding her eyes from the sunlight and giving them time to adjust. Once she is sure that the light no longer is burning her retina, she opens them. Two breaths in, one out and everything comes flooding back into her memory. Falling into slumber after counting hundred to one for the 11th time. Calling Stark, calling Clint, calling Phil. And she is angry, so very angry.

She looks down on herself, at her body, still lying there on the rug and feels disgusted at the thin layer of desperation covering her skin. The layer is thinner than last night but it yet feels like it is burning her skin, rotting her until the skin dies and peels away.

She sprints to the shower, throwing off clothes like their on fire and steps under the burning shower. She scrubs herself with the loofa, she scrubs herself with her fingers-but it's nearly not enough.

She steps out of the bathroom when the water turn ice and her skin, red, bleeding in many places. Her steps are stomps of anger as she wrenches her clothes off the hangers and onto her body.

Nuuk is cold. But she doesn't mind.

She runs to the nearby abandoned gym in shorts and a tank top. The frigid climate is like pins and needles on her bare skin. And by the time she reaches the gym her lips are pale blue.

The punching bag is like chocolate heaven and she a 60 year old menopausal women. She punches like left, she punches it right, she kicks it and she kisses it. The relief of lashing out on it without restriction cannot be overstated. She works out in that old, cold little gym for hours on end, until she is shaking from exertion and not from the cold.

She works on the punching bag, runs on the powerless treadmill, and hops on the cross-trainer. She does her crunches, her planks, pull ups, push-ups and everything unmentioned.

She works until her blue lips are pink again.

She eats little and sleeps none, and pops caffeine pills like it's the end of the world. She feels good.

Then one day she doesn't get up. Of course she never willing goes to sleep but every third day or so she passes out on her trusty rug. Running her body on hummus and pita bread, occasionally a satisfying sandwich, 7 caffeine pills a day and an exhausting gym routine. Her body compensates by sleeping a good 6hours every 50hrs. She doesn't know how many days had passed since she pressed this self-destruct button on herself but it made her feel alive. Like everything was okay.

So one day she doesn't wake up. She feels herself dancing on the line between slumber and consciousness but cannot put the effort of completely waking up. She also finds herself feeling cold and shivering.

She hears the waves crashing outside, hears cars passing by and –jingling of keys at her door?

That alone should have put her on alert. But you know what, who cares. She has practically been a sitting duck for all these days. So she continues laying on the rug, completely indifferent and uncaring of her safety.

Her head had begun throbbing again and she feels herself slip into unconsciousness just as the door bangs open.

"Natasha?" Someone is shaking her and it's vexing. All she needs is sleep. Can't they let her do that? "NATASHA, wake up. Are you okay?"

It's only then the voice registers. It's _His_ voice. Clint's. He is finally here.

She wants to slap him and hug him and then beat the life out of him but all she can currently manage to do is open her eyes into narrow slits.

"God, Natasha you're freezing."

And she sees his face. He is so beautiful. "Clint?" she croaks. His eyes, flooded with worry, the purest of grey-blue color are most exquisite thing she had seen in a while. She wants to comment on them but can't seem to find her voice.

It takes so much energy and effort just to raise her hand to meet his chest. To feel his heartbeat. She almost sways into blackness just by doing the little task only staying awake out of determination. What she feels is completely unexpected. She painfully looks down to where her hand is and sees the pristine suit.

"You are wearing a suit?" she smirks-or winces, she can't quite tell anymore.

"No Natasha, It's Phil." The voice says. Her eyes quickly cut back to Clint's face and watches in absolute horror as his face warps into Phil's.

Its cuts her heart, breaks into a million tiny fragments and burn. Dying would have felt astronomically better than this.

She chokes. "God. I am seeing this." The pain is incomprehensible and Phil can feel it radiating from her. Burning him in her agony too.

"It's okay, Natasha. I've got you"

And even he doesn't believe it. Maybe, eventually, gradually thing would be alright. Just not right now but eventually.

Little did he know nothing after this would ever be okay.

**AN: So what do you think? Review and let me know**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: A big shout out to isikiddo and capcapcap for reviewing**

**Virtual cookies to isikiddo and buddha49 for the favorites and last but not the least to all my followers. You guys rock!**

**CHAPTER TWO**

She was stronger than most of them. Heck it would be absolutely safe to say she was stronger than all of them. And so it was the most disconcerting to see Natasha this way-passed out of exhaustion and overwhelming emotions. She had been of 6 back to back missions and yet never looked nearly as exhausted as she did right now.

Coulson carried the female agent to her bed room and gingerly laid her down on the soft mattress. The fact that she didn't budge when he touched her scared him. Maybe the damage done was beyond his expectations.

Then again what was he expecting? A drunken Romanoff? A Romanoff beating the life out of a dummy? Angry Romanoff? And more importantly how should he be handling it? It had been a while since he did this with Strike Team Delta (Ex Strike Team Delta.)

He plops himself down on the couch in the living room and runs a hand down his tired face. It's cold and his breaths come out in smoky puffs, amusing him for quite a while. He tries making perfect circles of smoke come of out and fails nearly every time. Clint was the one who mastered the art. If only-

The puffs amuse him for another two hours before he gives up and walks to the kitchen in hopes of finding coffee. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he shuffles towards the little kitchen. He opens the first cabinet to find it utterly empty. The second one also empty save for the cobweb the left back corner. The third and fourth cabinets aren't any better before he remembers Romanoff had never been the one with a penchant for coffee. Maybe there would be something in the fridge (he almost prays).

He opens the small fridge and wishes he hadn't for the fridge housed nothing, absolutely nothing but bowls of hummus, unreasonable amounts of Red Bull and two bottles of Vodka. Well, he settles for the bowl of hummus. And finally he sees and thanks his lucky stars for there in the back of the shelf was coffee.

Coffee prepared on the stove and spoon stuffed into the hummus, Phil once again settles on the cuch only this time instead of focusing on the smoky breaths, he lets his mind linger on more important issues, like the sleeping agent in the other room.

Why was this so bloody hard for her? It's not like SHIELD fired her or anything. It's just that the agency fell, leaving all of its employees to fend for themselves and start from scratch. And honestly being an agent of her caliber these things should have been easy for her. She knows how to create a new persona like a high school student his alphabets. Agent 101 and all. So he doesn't really understand his ex-agents current behavior. He expected more from her.

But by the end of the day she would always be his responsibility, agent or no agent.

Between the 9hours that Natasha slept, Coulson was able to achieve a lot. He pulled on another jacket from his pack and braved the cold in search of the nearest grocery store. The way his ex-agent was living was inacceptable. You can't live on Hummus every day, you need real sustenance.

He finds a store relatively quickly and makes his inside to the welcoming warmth. He reads the nutrition label on each item before dropping it into the buggy and moves on to the next item. An hour later he stands in the queue for the cashier, trolley filled with rye bread, veggies, deli, eggs and every berry he knows Natasha like. He evens grabs the 70% dark chocolate she swoon over. Another half an hour and he is back to the apartment, putting the respective items into their respective places in the kitchen.

He was in the middle of preparing a proper breakfast for himself when she scares the life out of him.

"What are you doing here Coulson?"

To say he tensed would be putting it mildly, he legitimately jumped.

"Holy Cr-Natasha, a warning would have been nice." He gets his thoughts in line under the pretense of getting his breathing under control after the scare, "Hash browns?" he asks, doesn't wait for an answer and pushes the plate in front of her.

Natasha doesn't bat an eyelash. Her stare is as intimidating as he remembers. "Why are you here, _Coulson_?" No voice modulation, no emotions but a threatening stab at the eggs on her plate.

Phil copies the same motion and brings the fork to his mouth before replying. "You called" Reasoning.

"You didn't answer my call." Interrogative.

"I knew it was you" Lying.

"No you didn't." Challenging.

Phil doesn't reply, rather lets his silence and quite chews of food be his answer. And she is oddly satisfied, like she cracked a hardcore criminal or the likes. It brings a big crooked smirk on her a face.

They continue eating in silence, scrapping their forks against the plates to fill the silence around them. The crashing of the waves brings no much comfort either.

She asks if he would care for coffee but he declines. She doesn't mind.

Coffee is supposed to be blended coffee grounds plus steaming water, according to the general population. What coffee is supposed to be in Romanoff's language is a can of Red Bull, half a cup Vodka and three tablespoons of coffee, all thrown in the blender. It's a new recipe she has invented, he can tell. The outcome is a nauseating red brown colour.

He is glad he didn't take up her coffee offer.

They don't talk much after that. She goes for a shower and he pulls up his laptop for work. What work remains, she wonders but doesn't inquire.

She goes to the gym after that, and doesn't return home until midnight.

When she does return, she is slightly blue cold. Then again what does one expect when clad in shorts a tee in this frigid climate. It almost gives Phil a heart attack to see her that blue.

"Natasha-" He begins to say but she wants to hear nothing. She returns within a few minutes, dressed more appropriately for the weather and sits down on the couch, staring straight ahead.

"I ask again, Coulson, Why are you here?"

Her lips are yet blue and he is yet worried.

"I was worried Natasha. You completely disappeared and hadn't contacted anyone for months. I was scared you'd do something drastic."

"You feared I'd do something out of this world but didn't put half the effort to look for me, did you?"

Damn, she hit the right button because admittedly he was ashamed. It could be seen in the tension in his frame and the guilt in his eyes.

"Heck you didn't pick up when I called you."

"I tried, Natasha- I honestly wanted to help you but I didn't have the slightest idea where to find you and I had so much on my plate at the moment-I couldn't-"

She turns her head to face her ex-handler and see the regret in his eyes for herself. What she did that night, calling everyone in hopes of getting help or company was a moment of weakness. It would never happen again. She made sure of that; she had begun to construct herself stronger after that. But she needs to hear Coulson's pathetic excuses.

Was she angry on him for that? Maybe a little but more importantly she was thankful. It was because of people like him that she is this strong and independent. Each time she decides to let someone in they give her a reason why she shouldn't have. She remembers that now. It was a thing she had forgotten after joining SHIELD, but since the agency is no more, it would be agreeable to wash away whatever they thought her at SHEILD.

"Stark called you, didn't he? He told you how desperate I sounded. And I bet it was only after that you noticed my absence didn't you?" Her words bit him, tearing off chunks of his heart but she didn't look angry at all. No, right now she is the epitome of calm and cool as a cucumber. Her words are lava.

"I have agents to look after Natasha and I was in a lot of shitty situations lately too. You are no longer my agent remember!" He wishes he could back the words because it weren't true at all. Sure she wasn't his agent anymore but that doesn't mean he could completely detach himself from her. He yet was her friend, a confident. No amount of promotion, demotion or shitty situation should ever be the reason for their altered state of friendship.

He could see where the words at poked her because he continued to stare at him for a long time before averted her gaze to the rug.

"I am sorry"

"No, Natasha, I am sorry."

And that was the end of what little conversation they were able to strike up.

The sun was just peaking over the horizon and it's the start of a new day- end of really valuable friendship, he can sense.

You know how you have a really close friend and due to unfortunate circumstances they end up moving across the globe? You really don't think that a change in country would alter your relationship with them because you promise to call, to text, skype and everything. You even the keep the promise for a couple of weeks. Then the time difference across you and your friend starts creeping up. Sometimes you have a late night appointment with a client or they have an early morning meeting and slowly the weekly calls thin down to a call a month and eventually the calls die down all together. Years later the both of you finally manage to meet up and suddenly you realise that the friendship misses its essence. It lags the magic it carried before. Ever had that feeling? At that instant you know you lost someone and it pain you because you weren't ready to let go but things just weren't the same anymore. You miss the laughs you used to have until your belly ached, the sarcasms and insults you threw around each other. But meeting up with this friend of ours after years and you struggle to create that comfort again.

Phil had the same feeling at the current moment.

He hears the door of her bedroom slam shut and figured it's going to be a while until the assassin emerges again. Forgoing to shed the suit, he uncomfortable lies down on the couch, feeling exhausted.

He wakes up hours later, when the sun casts the last soft golden glow across the room before finally setting. The first thing he notices is that sleeping on the couch was a big mistake. The kink in his shoulder and neck are almost too unforgiving. The second thing he notices was the yellow paper taped on his tie. The third and final thing that comes to his attention was the absence of the assassin.

Figuring she might have gone out for a smoke, he rips the paper of his tie and begins to read.

"_Coulson,_" here he can see the 'dear' furiously scratched out before his name.

"_If you are reading this, then you should know I am gone. Times have been difficult and I apologize I may have been an addition on the pile of junk on your plate currently. I am leaving everything I own and know behind with no intentions of ever returning again. I know this isn't something you would have liked to be informed of through a letter-but hey, at least its closure right. Don't worry, Phil, I will be alright-or I hope so but at least you don't have to worry about me. I wish I could give you a reason for all this but unfortunately I always end up coming short. I think my past, secrets and everything else about me being on the internet is reason enough to be running away (is it running away-even if I don't have anything left to there to be an away?). I have no idea about I am going to do with myself anymore, maybe I just need to clear my head I guess. _

_I also wanted to thank you for being such a wonderful and loyal handler and an even greater friend. I wish I had more to say but-_

_Maybe, if, one day everything magically turns out alright, perhaps we could sit and talk things out and if they don't –well in that case this is goodbye._

_-N_

_PS: Forget me._

_PPS: if you ever see Clint again, I know you will, tell him, he may as well have planned my funeral because he sure as hell killed me. (He'll know what I am talking about.) I might as well be dead to him anyways._

_._

_._

_._

Somewhere half way around the world, in a dingy hotel room, Natasha Romanoff was beginning a transformation like no other. She was killing Natasha Romanoff and once again embracing the Black Widow in the truest of spirit. Her hair had already been died a dark shade of brown, almost dark chocolate but not quite. Her green eyes had been hidden under brown lens as well. Presently she was working on her fifth set of brand new aliases. One would believe how easy doing this was and for a person of Natasha's calibre this was cherry pie.

Once the she had fail-proofed her 8th persona she set on the most important part of her new life aka tracing the target. Hacking into the security severs was done in a matter of minutes, files downloaded in another half an hour and any trails she may have left (Of course there were absolutely no trails) were cleared, she settled for another sleepless night.

Her mission was simple; wipe out everything, even minutely related to her, from every computer on the planet.

Of course the task was easier said than done. A mission like this would take extensive planning, skills and the right kind of help. Firstly she would have to find out where all the files had gone after she had regrettably uploaded them in DC. This task itself was considerably big but this task she could manage on her own. Second came the infiltration part. Suppose she had all the means of erasing herself from every computer with an internet access, she yet had one big problem. Problem being every big league company has a Back Up centre, where all the files from all the computer under the company, in any country is backed up in case of any mishaps and no one knows the location of these back-up centres but the higher managers and board members. Now what she had to do was figure out who had the information she needed and get it out of them. Each company has at least 5 members who know the location and that too in riddles and parts. So Natasha has to pin point the five members of each company, get the information and not tip off any other authorities.

The third part of the mission was the actual breaking in to the back-up centres and erasing each file. Like she said before easier said than done.

In order for her to complete the mission with the success she hopes for, she would need a partner or two, and she has just the right person in mind. James 'Bucky' Barnes.

.

.

.

Tony Stark guessed something was off when he received a card from the one and only Natasha Romanoff. Well at least he hoped it was her because of the slightly cursive 'N' signed at the bottom of the said card.

The card read as follows:

"Stark,

Thanks.

-N.

It did perplex him at first as to who this 'N' might be but seeing that the card was a note of 'thanks' and not any threats, she guessed it might have been the spider from the Avengers. Why she had sent him a 'thank you' letter was the easier thing to figure out because Tony Stark had done only one good, supportive thing for the little red head recently and that was to call trace her call, give her location to Phil and ask him to check up on her. Not to be surprised he did know that Coulson was alive (Hacking was his hobby) and secondly he felt bad about how he treated Romanoff after she called him asking for help, or at least sounding like she needed it.

He knew what she was going through but then again he didn't. After the whole New York thing, he did go through some mild PTSD but at least he had Pepper to support him. Stark knew after the whole ordeal with the Winter Soldier, Natasha was practically abandoned.

He recently started to think of Clint as a douche bag. Sure Loki messing with his mind might have done a number on him but it still wasn't a strong enough reason to quit SHIELD because as far as Tony could tell and as far as Tony had read the archers file, Clint was married to the job and engaged (in his mind only) to a certain spider. He having to cut all ties with SHIELD and leaving Natasha to find another partner would be torture enough for her. He had also learned that things hadn't been rougher for the pair, heck they hadn't talked to each other for Two years!

So yeah, Tony Stark had to admit he was confused: Should Natasha's letter of gratitude mean that things were finally going her way for did he sense a 'goodbye' hidden beneath the thanks?

END OF CHAPTER TWO

AN: Is this story any good so far? I hope this chapter got a few questions answered and got the story rolling. Leave a review and let me know what you thing. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, they belong to Marvel. This story is just for personal amusement. **

**CHAPTER 3**

**12 MONTHS EARLIER**

"She's getting better"

"And you are concerned, why?" The assassin says nonchalantly while surfing the channels on the TV. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

Besides him, the annoying billionaire was tweaking another component of his suit. Now don't get him wrong (of course, he went back to building a suit) he loves Pepper and as promised completed 'Clean Slate' but honestly and surprisingly it was on Pepper's desire that he build one just one suit. The whole thing with Killian and Extremis did to a number on Peps but at least they are engaged now. The whole PTSD thing is now a thing of the past and all was well. Or as well as it could be with all the Avengers assembled once again save for the only female on the team. "I doubt she can get better, have you seen her moves. I mean she is the best and even she can't top that."

Clint only chuckles, while Phil shakes his head from side to side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. Dead, don't tell me she can get better at kicking ass. I ye have a scar from her heel on my butt. Yeah, Pep isn't happy about that." Halting his talk just to tighten a bolt, he suspiciously looks at the archer through his peripherals. "Legolas, come on back me up here." Nudging him.

"Yea, tin head, no. I can assure you, what you saw in New York and in Natalie Rushman wasn't even half of what she is capable of. And if Coulson says she is getting better at this than you better run and cover you little butt."

Stark takes a good whole minute to study the archer's face. He sees the lines of worry on his forehead and the bags under his eyes, the knots in his shoulders and the grit of his jaw. He isn't fooling anyone by claiming not to give a damn because currently his whole body screams in agony that he cares. That he is still worried for his partner. He can take his 'I moved on' pile of bull shit and dump it in hole-there was no way in hell that he moved on. No one could actually.

Clint and Natasha just weren't partners. They were one soul inhabiting two bodies. Why? Because their relationship went beyond their job description and position, their relationship had surpassed the bonds of marriage title. How? Because in addition to letting the other in (a bloody difficult task by the way) their lives, they accepted the other person completely, body and soul. They shared their past with each other, their secrets and their bodies. Now one would be tempted to say, a lot of people share their past, secrets and bodies with the person they love, so what made Clint and Natasha special?

They shared vulnerabilities.

Not just physical ones but mental and emotional ones as well, And they did this to such an extend it almost bordered telepathy. It was incredible, bewitching and envying.

People who were fortunate enough to work with the duo wished, wished so badly to have what Clint and Natasha had, as partners. The moves, that one made, already predicted by the other, welcomed with total understanding and no doubt. It made a lot of people jealous. Alas the magic was no more.

Stark tore his eyes away from the archer's almost too abruptly. The pain in his eyes burnt the billionaire so averting his eyes; he focused his attention back at the technology at hand. "Whiskey, anyone?" He had to get away from the archer.

The safe house, blessedly, was stocked with the state of the art technology, that Stark claimed he could deactivate in his sleep, all kinds of food. Apparently Coulson knew how to keep a bunch of muscly men happily fed, though it lacked the high end bottles that Stark has a penchant for. Nonetheless ordinary Whiskey worked equally well.

Paris was a pain this time of the year; the weather was unpredictable and the sun scarce. This severely damped the billionaire's plan to take Steve and Bruce to the nudist beaches. Being cooped up indoor wasn't doing any good either. The constant work that Coulson loaded them with only bought on a wave of rebellion from Stark and also nearly earned him a punch from Bruce. Yes, from the good, _calm_, doctor-that itself spoke volumes.

Well the mission was to track down Romanoff as one may have guessed. Word around the street was that she was working with a team. And it wasn't the Avengers. News of stolen artifacts from the Louvre only aroused further suspicions. The value of the stolen artifacts was most felt by Steve, the rest of the gang were indifferent.

They had gone through the security cameras a million times now and the whole scene was recreated in the living room of the safe house that they were currently occupying, courtesy Stark and his wonderful gadgets. The holograms though a big help weren't able to produce anything remotely substantial. Except one big thing. Mega thing if you will.

The normal waves in the air were slightly disturbed for just about a minute and a half and Bruce almost believed it to be the fault of the equipment- but Eureka. No it wasn't a looped video-that's too predictable to be Romanoff plus they had already crossed it out. But instead the whole scene was recreated. Oh my God, Romanoff pulled a 'mission impossible'. Damn, Stark was jealous.

Screaming Eureka for the fourth time, the billionaire hopped his way to the doctor to narrate his findings.

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.

.

"To success?" Nicky says raising his glass of amber.

"To success!" Romanoff and James both give in, drinks raised and promptly gulped. The bottle had yet a long night in front of it but sadly a short life. The trio were expert drinkers. One of them Russians, another trained in Russia for more than 50 years and the last the best criminal in the world also Romanoff's best friend, so yeah maybe they needed more than three bottles of hard liquor to celebrate properly.

They had recently completed fifth mission together, of course a success (Don't ever doubt that) and things were great. 'Natasha's' initial mission were on the path of accomplishment and she had already formed a new team.

The stolen artifacts from Louvre were carefully packed and ready to be moved but Nicky decided a celebration was in order, Romanoff didn't argue and Barnes nonchalantly said not a word.

The night was at its peak with each person almost on their third bottle each and Nicky and Romanoff in the middle of a heated make-out session while Bucky lazily watched from the corner. Hands started to roam each other's bodies, moans got frequent and Romanoff couldn't help but notice the voice in the back of her head. _'You missed this didn't you?'_

Lord, she missed this. She missed fooling around with whoever she wanted with, whenever she wanted. She missed selling her mind, body and soul to the devil.

When Clint had bought Natasha to SHIELD, he essentially gave her new life. Everything was a Tabula Rasa, fresh and new. She learned a lot, learned to care for others, put herself first once in a little and even make decisions but more importantly she earned. She earned her control over her mind and body and redeemed her soul.

How? Why?

Simply because she had Clint, a person she could trust, who guided her, stick by her, who could trust her. And when that person went away, she nearly fell apart, only clinging to the hope that one day he would come to his senses and return to SHIELD. Then SHIELD fell, but it was her that was ultimately broken.

With no one to anchor her, she easily slipped into her old ways. Yes, she killed-but only when she had to. Maybe because somewhere a part of her SHIELD self is yet buried deep within her. She had casual sex with Nicky and almost with Barnes too. She enjoyed this like a teen whose parent are away for a business trip and the whole house is theirs for them to do as they please.

Barnes, excused himself after a while, but Nicky and Romanoff were too busy to notice and the night slowly slipped away as well.

**16 MONTHS EARLIER.**

"What's in it for you?" He hisses, his knife already drawing a thin line of blood across her throat. "Why would you help me?" Each word forced out with unbearable anger.

For a second she is scared that this is the end of her but the thought is soon given a proper funeral and pulls her lips in a tight line. No smirks. This isn't the time for amusements. "Because I know you, I know you want to know more about who you are. You want to know the truth. I can help you get it but I need your assistance in return."

He doesn't buy it at all, just narrows his brown eyes at her dangerously and the knife digs a bit deeper. She gulps and the movement of the blade as she did so was just too exciting. This was the beginning of her turning back into Natalia once again. She gulps once more and tries again.

"I need your help in breaking in the 'Back up Centers of all the intelligence agencies and erase everything about me. In the way we can find every file with your name and thus discover or rediscover who you really are, easy."

He chuckles now at her stupidity. "And you think I can't do that on my own. Do you really think I hadn't thought of this?"

For heaven's sake, he is the Winter Soldier. He had already analyzed every option several times over. If he wanted to know more about himself he easily could. And yet…

"Yes." God she is gutsy." You can't do this on your own. There is a strict time frame that we have to take advantage off and you would need at least three men, including yourself to pull out a stunt like this. If the Russians get wind of this personal mission of yours, they will capture you and wipe your memory clean again. This is where you would need help and this is where I can help you."

He starts considering it now. "Look I need to disappear from the face of the earth completely; _you _can help me do it. You need to find yourself; _I _can help you do it. It's a win-win situation."

He digs the knife deeper and now it's verging on pain before he angrily pushes himself off of her and towards the opposite wall. "After we pull this off-if we pull this out-"

"It's not a trap." She assures him before he can complete his sentence. "I won't run back to the agency I belong to because I have none. I _don't _belong to anyone. Ever.

The silence is deafening, pounding and shattering, punctuated by their collective and heavy breaths. Seconds pass, then minutes and neither of them move until finally his shoulders sag and he turns. "This three man op-who else can we turn to?"

"I have just the man in mind, Nicky Riordan."

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They find Nicky in Warsaw, typically munching on a piece of gum conceitedly, leaning against a light pole and stripping girls with his eyes. Romanoff approaches him and he raises the aviators from his deep green eyes and gives her a good once over. "Romanoff!" he exclaims, breaking her name into many syllables for emphasizes of his surprise. "Long time no see, Looking way hotter by the way." His causality is dirty and uplifting as he hugs her.

"I can say the same about you. Totally rocking the pompadour."

He clicks his tongue twice and snaps his fingers at her. "Chicks love it." She smirks in understanding. He hasn't changed at all.

"So, I have a mission, totally personal, and I need your help." She says pointedly.

His gaze is on the hottie in shorty but his attention all on the curvaceous lady before him. "Does it include vandalizing government and or national properties?"

"Yes" she laughs in return. Of course Nicky would only ask that.

Maybe that's why she likes him. He doesn't –never-asks her about her personal life unless she has to mention it and she never asks his. They are maybe more than friends but definitely less than lovers, Friends with benefit, perhaps but with more meaning than just physical satisfaction.

They became friends during her time in the Red Room. They crossed paths while she was on an assignment and instantly clicked. Nicky was a rogue assassin. He once worked for the Hungarians but soon went rogue and disappeared. The Hungarian government thought they lost him on a mission, listed him MIA for weeks before a severely burnt body was identified as that of Ryan Riordan's (His name under the Hungarian government) and the rest is history.

She frequently met him when the opportunity arose when in the Red Room and their acquaintance grew into strong friendship and from there it only grew further. Alas, when she joint SHIELD, she refrained from seeing him from months and only made rendezvous when she was a full time agent.

"What do I get in return?" Men, she thinks always wanting something.

"A once in a life time opportunity to seriously screw with several National properties plus a threesome with that hottie if you can handle it." She informs seductively, playing the right cards.

"So I guess your Natalia self is back."

"You know me, always up for trouble."

"It's adventure, Natasha-"

"Natalia." She corrects him.

"Even better." He smiles.

And this was how they dug their graves.

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END OF CHAPTER 3

**AN: Any one reading this story? **** How do you like it so far? Please review and let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I can't thank your reviews guys. Thanks a ton and extra-large ice cream sundaes to Sailorraven34, Carolzocas and Theatre.**

**And a huge cookies to everyone who have decided to follow**

**Without further ado.**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

They find a small abandoned warehouse to properly address matters. They know the place isn't as confidential as they would have liked but assure themselves that with the three of them combined, an eavesdropper could hardly escape. The warehouse in question is dirty, and what little furniture it adorned were coated in dust, Nonetheless, a few good beating and the furniture is serviceable. They gather the chairs in a tight circle and are ready to discuss.

"So do you have lodging covered?" Nicky asks, yet despicably chewing that damned gum. Barnes swore to punch that guy one day. Alas his trainings taught him to be more level headed than that, he would have loved to roughen up the little punk a little.

Well Nicky for that matter wasn't little nor in the slightest a punk (Maybe a little, but one can let that slide.) For Nicky Riordan stood 6 feet tall, his body packed with strong toned muscles, a smile that made women swoon and a cocky smirk that annoyed most of the men. That is al physical and a half told story. Nicky is also one of the biggest smarty pants you can meet. He was blessed with a good (better than good) physique and brains too! Lucky, lucky boy.

"No, not yet." Barnes replies, brusquely. Natalia notices the rude, abrupt reply but chalks it down to character.

Trying to play peace-maker she asks, "Any recommendations?"

He hums sexily, raising his chin in the air in pride. "Rosaline."

"Rosaline?" the other two raise their brows in question, one in curiosity and the other in disgust. The name Rosaline didn't sound right coming from someone like Riordan.

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"A ship? Rosaline is a ship?" Natasha fumes incredulously.

"No, no, no, _Rosaline_ is a beautiful yacht, almost my baby." And there is no mistaking the gleam in his eyes.

"Riordan, I swear-"

"It's a good idea." Barnes speaks up for the first time since they had reached their destination. "We can take the international waters and keep low."

"Exactly my point, Barnes." The carefree one among them says, giving Barnes a good pat on the shoulder which earns him nothing but a glare.

"Are you guys out of your minds? How in the bloody world can we stay on a ship-yacht and achieve our objectives?"

"Well, Natasha if you have –"

"Think about it, No National security to deal with, breaking in would be a hell lot harder and we basically are off the grid." Barnes completes for Riordan.

Eventually Natasha caves in. They take a tour, on Riordan's insistence, of the lovely Rosaline. The yacht in front of them was a 100 feet of sleek white body and shiny steel railing. Her name, 'Rosaline' magnificently painted on the body. Her pristine body shone even gloriously against the sparkly blue sea. It was picture perfect.

Once inside, Natasha sucks in a deep breath of appreciation and Barnes eyes sparkle in the same admiration. Of course Natasha had been on such luxurious yachts in her lifetime but sadly that was all too long ago and the same could be said for the Winter Soldier.

"I know right." Nicky says smugly taking in his fellow companions reactions.

The wooden interior was freshly waxed, they could tell by the shine and pleasant scent of lemon. The furniture was rich and soft, floor mahogany, walls crème in color and everything in perfection. Natasha swore she could get used to this. Her standard SHIELD issued apartment was a shame in front of this. God, her apartment was smaller than a yacht-that truly is something to mull over, considering their pay check.

"Well, the technology, security and yada, yada, yada are all state of the art and not to brag, but also JARVIS proof. Like I said, this is my baby and I take my baby very seriously."

Nicky gave the gaping pair a thorough tour of Rosaline and in the end the trio stood at the deck, watching the sea and occasional sea gulls.

"So, I can offer Rosaline to be our base and a few others of my safe houses but weapons and other gadgets I am very afraid aren't up to date for a mission of this proportion."

"I can help with that." Natasha only gives a sultry smirk.

And that was their first official mission-To break in to SHIELD Weapons Facility and get hold of every weapon they deemed fit. Of course there currently was nothing known as SHIELD but that doesn't mean everything related to SHIELD vanished away into thin air. Thank goodness, for once, things were easier done than said.

Natasha already knew about the location of SHIELD's weapon facility and breaking in could be done blindfolded-with her non dominant hand.

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_It was a couple of months after the Chitauri disaster and things were looking bleak. Natasha had already knew about Tony's PTSD and Clint fared no better, though she hadn't seen the latter in weeks._

_Its human nature to judge and those who did saw Natasha the ice queen but they can't be blamed, Natasha never put an effort to prove them wrong although some of her actions sometimes did. It was a pity no one noticed them. Natasha did genuinely cared for the Avengers despite the fact that they had only been on one mission. She cried after hearing about Phil's death and held her breath in terrible aching hope when Fury told him about his Tahiti plan._

_Natasha visited Clint frequently in his apartment in Iowa, even slept over most of the time. She cooked for him, cleaned after him when he puked after nightmares and tried-tried so hard to help him. Sadly it didn't work out so well. Clint almost shunned her presence in favor of sitting by the window, watching the birds chirp for hours until the sun had set. Then one day, while she reluctantly left him to fetch some groceries, she returned home to a locked front door and a note taped to it._

'_I need some space. Please leave.'_

_She got the message loud and clear. It hurt too._

_She left with blurry eyes and went back to SHIELD. _

_Missions came quickly after that, solo ones and she took them all. Her life soon became one mission after another, and them another mission. She had been to India, Australia, Brazil, Nigeria, and Malaysia. It seemed like a big deal, like she couldn't handle all these missions but she managed. Some missions (most of the missions, really) she would subtly look behind her back to assure herself Clint had her back and every time it disappointed her that Clint didn't-he wasn't even on the mission with her._

_It was for another mission briefing that she was called by Fury. She stood in attention, ready to lose herself in work, ready to hear the mission and get it done with just so that she could have another one. He asked her to take a sea, which was odd in itself, but didn't scrutinize. Once she sat down across from the one eyed director, he slipped a white envelope across the table, towards her. She guessed it was airplane tickets for her mission, albeit a white envelope always comes after a manila folder with the mission's objectives and details. _

_She opened it without questions and wished she hadn't opened it at all._

_It was a resignation letter-Clint Barton's resignation letter._

_That's when Clint figuratively killed her._

_._

_._

_._

_She nearly died on the next mission._

_It was a mission that she could complete in a day or three. She took four._

_When Fury realized something probably went wrong, he sent a group of agents as backup because damn it he can't keep losing all his best agents. They infiltrate the mark's house and find him dead in his bedroom just as the mission required. They also find Natasha bleeding profusely and completely incoherent due to the severe blood loss._

_The bullets had perforated her lung which if not handled with care would result in a slow, agonizing death_

_They lose her twice during surgery and her condition written was critical. But being the fighter she is she recovers miraculously (she wasn't happy) and Fury understands that despite putting up a brave front, Natasha is as much damaged as the other Avengers and even Phil. He wishes he had realized it earlier-seen it earlier but she is just too good in blending in, disappearing and putting others before her. Fury was so occupied, tracking Rogers down, talking to Stark, keeping an eye on Banner and Barton, supervising Phil's recovery-that he didn't notice the one person who put a whole lot of effort in actually bringing a team together that he vision and others thought impossible. He regrets it had to come to Romanoff almost dying for him to pay attention to her. She was his agent too._

_Then after much contemplation on his side and a long recovery on Romanoff's, he assigns her a mission partnered with Captain America. Things didn't go so well, this time he nearly died and SHIELD ultimately fell. The rest is history._

_._

_._

_._

They decide to stay on the yacht for a few days to test it out and get familiar with the feel on the sea. It was mostly done to throw off suspicion because Rosaline hadn't had a visitor for months, except the weekly crew who cleaned the beauty and stocked with when needed.

Once they all had settled in, after Natasha and Barnes went back to their hotel to pick up their clothes and weapons, Rosaline set sail.

It was about two hours later when Natasha was finally done unpacking her clothes and checking and re-checking her weapons. With nothing else to occupy her mind with currently her thoughts flew back to Clint-she couldn't handle that-and so to avoid further misery, she decided to check up on Riordan or more preferably soak the sun on the deck. She then quickly changes out of her jeans in favor of the one sundress she owned and made her way to the deck.

Instantly she was hit with fresh ocean breeze, it blew her dress and made a big mess of her brown tresses but she didn't mind that. She walks up to the railing and takes a daring peak at the blue water below, honestly it wasn't that daring considering she has done this far more dangerously than this. The sky was exhibiting its shades of reds, and pinks and purple as the kissed the horizon. It absolutely took her breath away. Sights like these were something she never had the time to appreciate and enjoy properly. Now that they were on 'Rosaline for a few days, formulating a more thorough plan, she thought maybe she could enjoy this. She stared at the horizon until the sun was completely engulfed by it and the reddish sky slowly turned dark blue. She was even fortunate to catch sight of the first star of the night.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Riordan says coming up behind her, imitating her stance by the railing.

She simply nods in agreement. It was beyond beautiful.

She hasn't even looked at him yet but same smell the scent of the wine he probably has in his hand. As if to confirm her assumption, she tilts her head to face him and is pleasantly surprised that he has two glasses of wine. She expresses her gratitude with a smile when he offers her a glass. Usually she isn't satisfied with just a glass of wine but it's a kind of time when you savor every sip of your drink.

They don't much, in fact they don't talk at all, simply enjoy the quiet time they have. Such quality time doesn't last long for them and they both know it.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks at last.

"Yea, I am sure." Her voice doesn't sound sure at all.

He doesn't press further, choses to purse his kips instead. "Dinner?"

"God yes, please."

The thing is Natasha isn't any good with emotions. She knows what she feels and knows what others around her feel. But sometimes when the emotions are strong-when affections are displayed-she gets scared because she doesn't know how to reciprocate it. She fears to offense them and thus doesn't reciprocate at all.

Riordan is basically the same and this was the main reason that they became friends almost instantly. Well it actually began with being allies but that's another story. He isn't any good at showing emotions or rather doesn't want to. Natasha is the same. They both fear offence and the potential that if they even do address and show their feeling properly they might end up getting hurt.

Therefore smile and avoid.

"What's for dinner anyway?"

"My specialty canned noodles." He says pulling out two Raman's out of the kitchen cabinet.

"You have got to be kidding me." She says with a sour expression on. Raman? Really? Rosaline and Raman? The contradiction is too hilarious. "Way to go Nicky, impressing a girl with your magnificent yacht and then treating her to canned noodles." The sarcasm in her voice wasn't lost on him.

"Hardy har, har."

"Mock offence doesn't go with your face Nicky." She laughs as he pours boiling water into their respective Raman cups and sticks a fork in them. He pulls out another Raman for Mr. Stick in the mud Barnes, who hasn't left his room since Rosaline set sail.

They walk up to his room to drop off dinner and knock. Upon receiving no answer, "I think he is busy." Natasha says.

"With junior Barnes I assume. I mean he's left arm is slightly more muscular than he's right one." That earns him a laugh.

"His left arm is a prosthetic one, Idiot."

"Just saying, it is a possibility." They knock again, receive no answer again and decide to simply announce that they were coming in.

The door opens and they find the Winter Soldier working furiously on his computer, Nicky being the person he is clears his throat to grab his attention but all he receives is a sharp glare.

"We bought you noodles.' Natasha says in a singing voice, playing a sort of peace maker between the two of them.

Both men were wary and suspicious of each-other and the only reason they haven't attacked and killed the other is because of their mutual acquaintance-Natasha. Barnes had already laid his suspicion for the other man in the room very clear over the flight to Warsaw to meet Nicky Riordan and Natasha had a feeling that she and Riordan were going to have a talk about Barnes very soon too.

Barnes doesn't say anything just raises his brow and grabs for the _delicacy_. The fork was aggressively stabbed in to the noodle cup and the other two took that as the sign to leave.

"Talk about being corked." Riordan later says. "Now that I think about it didn't he have two tabs opened on his computer? And I am positive there was a tissue on the bed as well."

"TMI." She says in disgust and elbows him. Barnes isn't that kind. "Let's give him an hour or two while we finish dinner and then we all can device the plan and course of action."

Dinner eaten and two hours later they knock on Barnes door again. "Ready to begin work?" Natasha asks-the boys weren't on talking terms yet-her face completely serious and professional.

He simply nods his head in affirmation and follows them to the living area.

The living area was quite huge and he could see were Riordan and Natasha had already set everything up. The table in the middle had papers and blueprints scattered all over it and a computer had also been set up and ready for use. The table in the corner and nearest to them too had files upon file on it.

Riordan dramatically cracks his knuckles and neck "Lets kick some ass."

And for the first time in a very, very long time, Barnes smirks.

Oh they will kick some butts indeed.

**AN: Well this chapter is just a filler. Major plot coming up in the next chapter. I would also very much appreciate it if you guys give me some feedback. So please REVIEW.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Marvels and its character do not belong to me. This is story is solely for personal amusement. **

**A big Thanks to Sailorraven34 and Carolzocas. You guys are Amazing. Thank you so much for reviewing. And thanks to all the followers too.**

_**CHAPTER: 5: The Call**_

**15 MONTHS EARLIER.**

The plan was simple enough. It was a basic Level 5 infiltration operation and to be honest they had nothing to worry about. All they needed to do is get into the 'CLOSET' and take as many weapons and gadgets as their heart's desired, it wasn't as if SHIELD actually wanted the weapons. Heck SHIELD isn't even there.

"They call it 'The Closet'?" Nicky asked barely stifling a laugh and to make matters worse even Barnes gave a double take when he heard what SHIELD called their weapons facility.

"Americans" both Natasha and Barnes say at the same time. And though Barnes was modest and said it under his breath, Natasha had no problems insulting the people of the United States of America for their wild tendency to give almost everything a name and an embarrassing one at that.

"So let's go over it once again, shall we?

We will fly to Australia, stop there for a night, take a boat at noon half way to Lord Howe Island, and scuba dive the next. At exactly 12.45 the guards will change shifts, though I doubt anyone will be there but anyway, that gives a good 3 minutes to make it into the facility-"Here Natasha was rudely interrupted.

"You mean the 'Closet'?" Riordan, again.

"Are you going to do that each and every time, Let it go."

"Why? Are you going to stop me?"

By this point, the murder in Natasha's eyes was apparent enough to scare him. This man truly was another Tony Stark, kind of pain in the next. He didn't mean any harm but his curious and carefree nature sometimes boiled blood. Once she had calmed down enough to his likings she slowly dragged his attention to the paper Barnes was furiously scribbling over.

The picture wasn't a pretty site and Riordan knew that was all the warning he was ever going to receive if he continued that vexing behavior of his. They were adults for God's sake. He should really try behaving like one. The paper which Barnes was killing with pen strokes was actually a sketch of the only other man in the room being choked by a metal arm. Riordan was betting that the arm belonged to the Winter Soldier. That thought and that thought alone made him tune down his jokes.

"As I was saying, the _facility_ doesn't have more than 2 guards on the inside, but has a self -destruct trigger. Barnes and I will take care of the guards and head directly to the rooms, while you head to the security room and disable the triggers." At this she pulled a hologram of the 'Closet'.

It doesn't look like a huge facility on the first glance but that was because the entire thing housed gadgets under the sea level. That way it was hidden from spy cameras and all. On the surface it was a standard SHIELD facility, grey walls, and surveillance cameras on every corner, motion sensors and all. About that-

"What about the motion sensors?"

"Nothing to worry about, the sensors are lined against the floors only. But we are planning to make a show and go 'Spider Man'. So the security room is in the North corridor. While the staircase to the underground housing on the west wing. Once we open the door to the housing it will immediately trigger the self-destruct so you have to disable it faster than we can get there."

The plan couldn't be easier.

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The plan was a piece of pie, the guards were nincompoops and miserably inept at their jobs, that or the fact that Natasha, Barnes and Riordan were just that good. They made it inside the facility in a minute after taking down the guards. Surprisingly there were guards yet. Once inside, the team pulled out their fancy gadgets which when thrown attached itself to the walls and from there they only had to sort of zip line-of sorts. SHIELD security protocol was shit. Riordan was willing to bet they zip lined the hallway in record time.

"You have a minute. Go." Barnes says and off Riordan goes towards the north corridor and Barnes and Natasha went the west way.

Riordan much to his pleasure completed his end of the mission in 45 seconds-_seconds_-it was quite impressive to say the least. "Okay, my end is all wrapped pretty like a Christmas present, it's your turn. I join you guys in 30 seconds." Riordan tried, he really tried to curb this urge but he just had to get one taunt out a day at least. So he went ahead. "So no naughty action guys, okay?"

The nasty growl he heard through his comm assured him that today was the day Barnes would kill him. He was looking forward to it.

Weapons here and gadgets there and more here and there, there were weapons everywhere. The trio looked like children on Christmas. Smiles widening on mischief and hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation of laying their hands on those bad boys.

"Ladies first." Riordan says and bows his head.

Natasha all but runs to the large shelf filled with weapons and other stuff she can't wait to find out. Nicky and Barnes weren't far behind her either.

One shiny thing that instantly caught her eye was 'Annihilator'. Damn God, that sounded good right now. The Annihilator was a sleek 6 foot bazooka type thing with a large blue barrel. "Hey, Nicky throw me one of those AK 47's" she calls out loudly. Riordan turns just in time to understand Natasha's intentions.

AK 47 at the ready, he shouts while Barnes joins in the fun too. "Ready?"

"Oh definitely baby."

Natasha readies the Annihilator one last time and Nicky launches the 47 into the air. With perfect timing and impeccable aim, she fires the weapon just as the 47 makes its second turn and-gone. The 47 is nowhere to be seen but something like ashes do linger and float in the air. AK 7 to dust in a flash-Awesome.

They fool around for hours, turning mundane and ordinary weapons into ashes before grabbing hold on every toy they wished and desired for before packing it all up neatly-like Christmas. They left the facility with absolutely no traces of them ever being there.

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**18 MONTHS EARLIER.**

He tried calling, honest to god he tried. Her cell number was already displayed on the screen of his phone and his thumb hovered over the call button but-he couldn't seem to do it.

Just 30 minutes ago he was channel surfing and the remote battery died just as the news channel came on. The images on the screen shocked him, rendered him paralyzed as ice ran through his veins. Something that looked quite a lot like the SHIELD Helicarrier was dropping from the sky, three to be precise. And then his breath hitches because then he sees the SHIELD logo on the carriers and something along the lines of SHIELD being declared as a terrorist organization, being taken down. Natasha, Natasha, Natasha and that's all he can think of. The coffee mug in his hand is harshly slammed down on the table in front of him as his legs push him up into a standing position. He stands like that, staring at the TV for quite some time before crossing the room and grabbing his mobile.

Like his fingers moved on their own accord, he had already dialed up Natasha's cell number. His thumb was just about to push the call button but then he faltered.

What was he going to say?

'_Natasha it's going to be alright'_? Yeah right! He knew almost too well that if says that she would literally teleport herself through the phone and strangle him. Then the voice in the back of his head reminds him that he doesn't even know if she's alive or not.

'_Of course she is alive. She is too stubborn to die'_ he convinces himself though he is not sure if it has worked.

So he spends the next half an hour trying to string up a decent sentence that he would-should-have to say. By the time he has the whole speech in place; doubt starts to cloud his judgment. Will she answer his calls? He doesn't know the answer to that question.

The truth is they haven't spoken in two years and mostly it was his fault though it didn't seem so at that moment.

Fury had given them-him-mandatory leave to recuperate. Natasha wasn't required to take the leave but she signed up for one because she was a good partner and tagged along with Clint. They went to his safe house in Iowa, plenty of open grounds, open sky and the place held an emotional significance to him. It was the closest thing that he called home.

A week went by without a hitch. She made him breakfast and he decides to simply lays in bed, she cleans up after him when he vomits all over himself, he decides to ignore her. She makes him lunch and he prefers to watch the birds dance outside the window. Then one day when she whispers that she is going to collect some groceries, he decides that he doesn't want her with him in his home anymore.

He appreciated her help, he did, but it wasn't what he needed right now. Selfishly he decides that some time alone will be better for him than her company. So he sticks a note on the front door asking her to leave. She does without any questions.

He stayed in Iowa for two weeks after that, battling his demons and nightmares on his own. Third week in and he packs up his bag and decides to gypsy around the world. His resignation letter is posted somewhere along the same period.

Being under Loki's control set a lot of things clear to him. Yes there was a lot of baggage and trauma to deal with but more significantly he showed him that he had to take advantage of the control he had in his life. He was convinced that he no longer wanted to be a pawn who takes orders from higher ups anymore. His life (a precious gift, he now understands) is in his control, if he wants to resign, he damn well will resign.

He jumps country to country, does all the things that a normal bucket list consisted of. Unfortunately its then that he realizes he had neglected his partner. Soon that too is forgotten-or ignored in shame.

Now while the news of SHIELD being no more-of SHIELD being discovered is relayed on the TV, he regrets not being besides his partner or was it ex-partner now?

He thinks about the 20 seconds of insane courage deal and decides against it, settles back onto the couch and tunes the volume on the TV higher.

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Phil comes to visit a few days later, surprisingly. The older agent isn't even properly seated before the younger one bombs him with question after question after question, most of them with Natasha on the mind. She is AWOL.

"Don't worry, you know her. She'll come knocking on either our door at midnight, eventually." Phil tries to console the Hawk after seeing the worry that he was trying desperately to bury.

Clint doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge the other man's words and that upsets Phil more than he thought it would. Because he knows he failed them, both of them. Despite having new agents assigned under his wings, he knew he yet had to perform his duty to his former agents, at least for the sake of their friendship and loyalty. So he repeats what he uttered earlier only and thankfully Clint responds this time.

"She won't be knocking on my door." It's true. Why would she? After all he was the one that asked her to leave him. He was the one that blatantly ignored his duties, job, and unfortunately her. And she even would have accepted his apologies once upon a time-but not now. It was 2 years too late for that. _He_ was two years too late. "So you have to be there for her."

Phil knows what Clint means.

Later when the pizza they ordered is delivered and a mutual silence was developed is finally when they can regret letting her go. Neglecting and abandoning her. Just the thought of Natasha, alone, fighting and struggling to deal with this disaster brings Phil to tears. He doesn't know where she is or what she is even doing. '_We were all she had, damn it.' _

Eventually Phil has to leave and even with the recent tears and all the regret he knew had had to put his duties first. Natasha would have to wait.

Clint, that night, cried himself to sleep. He couldn't process the thought that Natasha was all alone. He knew how upset Natasha could be about this.

"_What if I died?" He asked Natasha after a particularly bad mission. "What would you do?"_

"_I would do what you would want me to do, I guess." She replies from her seat by the window, eyes set clear ahead at the dense forest._

"_And what would that be?"_

"_Continue on, I think."_

_They were in Prague. The mission was successful but they had to pay a heavy price that none of them wanted to talk about ever. So they settled for silence and waited for the rain to stall. Natasha busied herself watching the forest from their safe house while Clint studied Natasha, etching every little detail to memory._

"_What would you do, if one day you wake up and everything you knew and loved is gone?" she asks this time._

"_That's worse than death, isn't it? To lose everything and to start all over again and again." They have had to start many things from scratch far too many time. "I don't think I could do it again." He doesn't know what he would do, if one day he wakes up and Natasha, Phil and SHIELD didn't exist. "What would you do?"_

"_I would kill myself." She says it so bloody calmly that it scares Clint to the point where he forget to breath. "I would do it slowly until my body can't take the pressure anymore and my sanity washes away. Or I would keep on running from myself and everything else that existed until I can't breathe and my legs tremble and when I finally fall in exhaustion I would drown myself."_

_He knew he wouldn't have started his conversation not after a mission like this. Maybe this was Natasha's stress talking, he think, but even he couldn't fool himself with that. Natasha was downright serious and Clint prayed that the day when she would keep this promise of hers would never come._

Days become more painful after the knowledge that SHIELD fell. He never doubted that Natasha couldn't survive DC. But now, he remembers what she told him in Prague, and he isn't so sure anymore. Every day is a constant struggle. Worry is literally consuming him. Infinite 'what ifs' taunt him relentlessly. What if she killed herself? What is she already started running? _What if?_

His phone was his the only source of solace. He could call her, couldn't he? Should he? And the struggle began once again.

18 months later, he wishes he had made the call.

**AN: REAVIEWS please **


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** A big Cookie to **Sailorraven34** and **Carolzocas**

** Carolzocas**, yes crushed hope is the worst thing ever. Thanks for the long review. I love hearing your point of view.

And to all you followers a big teddy bear hug from me.

**Chapter 6: Savior **

**12 MONTHS EARLIER**

"But how can we be sure it's her? And do we at least who she is associated with?" Bruce asked tiredly from behind his laptop.

He flew to Paris from Australia. Don't they know how bloody tiring the flight is? Not to mention the horrifying time difference. The eight hour time difference was killing but he guessed, he had to suck it up. Plus he had had much worse. But a cup of tea did sound appealing at the moment. So he rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses and got up to indulge himself with a cup of earl grey tea.

"The patterns are all there, plus only Romanoff's and some of our files are missing from every CIA and FBI database. I am willing to bet every penny that it's her." Phil, their new 'Director' (shocker) replies.

To be completely honest Tony, heck even Clint thought that if, 'if' one day Fury left, the responsibility of being Director would be handed down to Hill. So excuse him when Phil came knocking on his door ordering them to assemble and announcing his new post. No. Tony didn't choke on his coffee upon hearing the news. Please he is way classier than that. He choked on wine.

"Then why the Artefacts?"

So many theories, so many possibilities. So many questions to be answered. So much brain power in one room with all of them combined and they couldn't come up with one god damned good reason. One answer is all he needed. In this mess, against one of their own, Bruce needed answers, he needed to know exactly what was happening and why. Why would Romanoff do this?

For a person of Natasha's caliber, a blown off cover shouldn't have come as surprise. It was nothing she couldn't handle. But that was easier said than done. And to truly understand the situation he decided he needed to put himself in her shoes. So he leaned against the kitchen counter and closed his eyes. Imagine. Imagine yourself as a child taken from your family, denied the right to die with your family as they burned, taken to a place so hostile that it rips your humanity and sanity from your very core. Someone cruel, strong and unforgiving training you day and night, training you to murder, to interrogate, to seduce, to do anything to get the job done. Imagine yourself being strapped to an operating table, erased of any and every emotion, brainwashed to commit unmentionable crime. Imagine the shame that coursed through your veins like blood when you realize what you have done.

Then imagine having to start over again at SHIELD, your once chance at redemption. You, trying so hard to bury your past and to undo all that you have done wrong. To make amends and to clear a ledger so red that it seemed impossible. But you do it anyway. You kill yourself working day and night to make things right and when you have reached the last ladder of success the carpet is pulled right from underneath you and –and you fall right back to the bottom. With all your past laid bare to the public. Every scar, every story, every act done justly and not, every secret of yours open for public criticism. For judgment. It was like being naked in a crowd. Full of strange, harsh, judging eyes.

Suddenly Bruce wasn't sure if was in the right place. He wasn't sure if he wanted to track Natasha down anymore.

He takes in a shaky breath and the aroma of the tea runs pleasantly around him-almost calming him. "Why are we tracking her down? What's the point?"

Why are they here? To take down the one person who understood them all.

"What do you mean 'what's the point'? She is being dangerous and she has to be bought in." Phil says evenly but everyone can sense the underlying anger in his tone. "We don't know who she is working with and she is compromising every intelligence agency on earth. Is that not enough reason?"

The air thickened. The evening turned from being calm to a battlefield and the most horrifying thing was that they had to choose sides.

On one side was Phil who decided to bring in the Russian and her partner/partners. On the other side of the ring was the good doctor who actually wasn't rebelling or anything but merely questioning orders. It wasn't as if SHIELD was completely back on its feet or anything but only beginning to lay a brick of its foundation back.

Steve raised an eyebrow to silently question the doctor, he wasn't amused. In fact Steve believed that Romanoff had to be bought back only for questioning her motives and would be free to choose from then on.

But Tony begged to differ. "You did the same didn't you? Just because you did it along with SHIELD agents doesn't make it any more justifiable. Romanoff is doing exactly what you did, only outside of SHIELD's jurisdiction. Why is that suddenly a big problem?"

"Tony, shut up."

"Come on, just because we operate under SHIELD, we have the right to do whatever we deem fit? I don't think that's the definition of being fair. Why should an agents at be treated with complete understanding but the actions of a common man regarded as harmful to the society?"

Wasn't it true? Agencies, government or not, had the right to do carry forward any action they desired and live to see another day. But the actions of a common man, even though absolutely reasonable will only lead to court trials and prison. Does having a badge make you a justified, civil, person?

"Because she isn't just a common person, she is NATASHA ROMANOFF, THE BLACK WIDOW! Do you understand that, Stark?" Phil screamed from the table across the room. The file in his hand flew around vigorously almost as if to aid Phil to get the point across to the billionaire. "She can kill people in a blink. She is a threat."

To see Phil lose his temper like that was truly unnerving for Steve to watch and even Banner was taken aback at the sudden eruption. For a moment no one uttered a single word. The apartment was engulfed in silence save for the heavy breathing from the occupants of the room.

Stark could have said more, wished to say more but he had his limits. He understood that Coulson had reached his breaking point but he yet didn't understand the other man's point of view and neither did he appreciate it.

So he decides to take his leave as politely as he could. "I can't even look at you right now." That being said Stark makes his way to the door, grab his jacket and slams the door harshly behind him.

He never should have joined the stupid team again.

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**16 MONTHS EARLIER**

The knock came early on a weekday, Clint wasn't sure about the exact date but he was working out in his gym and the fact that someone had interrupted him during his daily routine irked him beyond comprehension. Taking a deep breath, Clint decided to ignore the knock, guessing whoever it may be would have the decency to leave after the third knock or so. So he went back on his training, punching the living lights out of the bag and performing moves to quick and complicated, that one could not help but stop and appreciate the show put forward by the archer.

Then a steady rhythm of knocks resounded throughout the house and Clint let a string of curses in response. He grabbed the punching bag to a stop and quickly made his way to the security cameras lined up against one wall of the gym to confirm that the person outside was of no threat.

The screen images shocked him for a good few seconds but thankfully the pounding knocks that swore to throw his door of its hinges broke him out of his reverie. Grabbing his discarded T-shirt, the archer prances up the stairs to answer the awaiting crowd.

The door opens just as Phil was reading himself to kick it down. The crowd consisted of not only Phil but the narcissistic billionaire and the Captain too. To say Clint wasn't surprised would have been a lie. Sure Phil was expected to drop by once in a while but Toy and Steve to join him as well was a pleasant surprise.

Unfortunately he wasn't fooled. Of course he knew they weren't here to chat over beer and football. They weren't that close, sadly. Despite that fact, Clint allowed a small smile to grace his lips.

"Hey, hey, hey, what are you guys doing here?" He opens the door wider and invites them all in.

"We have a mission for you. For all of us, I mean." Phil gets right into the matter.

"No." Clint doesn't beat around the bushes either.

"Clint-"

"No."

Steve tries to convince him, Stark tries to convince him, but Clint's answer remains immutable. No.

Sighing and realizing that there was no other way around this situation Phil adopts the only option he had on hand. Introducing the mission to him, warning him what they would do without his participation and finally bargaining.

"It's Romanoff, she's been compromised." Deja-vu, anyone?

And that seems to do the trick.

"I am listening."

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The mission was discussed in the most general of manner, just like football and beer. Partly because they weren't sure it's Romanoff and mainly because they didn't know anything other than that.

Phil was utterly sure Romanoff was behind this, it was her signatures style her everything. First the weapons from 'The Closet had gone missing and though there was a long list of people and agencies that could have emptied the 'Closet' for some reason Phil thought it was Romanoff. It screamed The Black Widow but Clint begged to differ. It could have been anyone.

Next thing you know the CIA Database Center was under siege that left a small army of guards in the hospital for a few days. Upon further and closer inspection the CIA were short on a few files, though they couldn't exactly in point which files were missing until a week later.

Files on all Russian agents, criminals and Ghosts were gone, vanished into thin air. And the annoying thing was there was not a single Digital Trail as to where and what happened to those files.

Lately came the news the Director of FBI was kidnapped and held hostage for two days until he was mysteriously (and safely) dropped back home. A medical trip later, just for precaution, the rest of the FBI members find that the Director failed to account anything substantial and worthy of notice. The medial result showed traces of heavy drugs, thankfully nothing that would cause lasting damage. The Director's memory that been wiped clean.

Two weeks after this, the FBI Information House suffered the same fate as the CIA Database center. No prints, no images, no digital trail nothing. It was as if no one was there at all and yet-

Only this time most of the files missing were those of HYDRA and some of KGB. This started to turn the cranks and gear in Phil's brain and for a fleeting moment he was convinced that maybe this was HYDRA again. He almost believed it but then again he almost didn't. He went with his gut instincts and pin downed Romanoff as his main culprit.

But why? Why would Natasha want to hack into the CIA and the FBI? What did she seek?

"So you are assembling us, just because you have a hunch its Romanoff? Come on, Phil have a little faith in her." Clint was angry at the fact that their Handler seemed to think this low off the Russian. Sure she had deflected the KGB's to join SHIELD but that was balanced by with years of loyalty and service. It made Clint sick o think that this is what Phil thought of her. "Just because she is AWOL doesn't mean, she is the one doing this. Back me up here guys." He whispers lightly from the seat by the Window, while the other occupants were nursing beer bottles around the coffee table. He refused to believe that Natasha could to this.

He then turns abruptly to face the other men and Steve swears the pain in the archer's eyes nearly gutted him. Steve scrambled to make a move to comfort him or utter words of solace but came up empty handed. He too was skeptical about Natasha's involvement in this. He had the pleasure of knowing her more during DC and he was sure this wasn't her. But then again who knows how desperate she was to…to what?

"Look we all want to believe that whoever it was that hacked the CIA and the FBI isn't Natasha, but at this point we need to put our feelings aside and deal with this like it's just another mission." Steve attempted to comfort though Tony doesn't think he did it right. If anything he just fuelled the fire that burned within the archer-no one accused his partner and got away with it. And to be completely honest the only reason that Clint didn't make a move to punch America's faithful Captain was because he didn't quite catch what Steve had just said, instead the archer was having a non-verbal conversation with the Director.

When Clint narrowed his eyes to convey his utter disbelieve that the whole situation, Phil just raised his brow in question. Ten Clint snarled his upper lip in disgust and Phil released a heavy sigh of regret. He didn't want to be in this situation. Anywhere but here.

When the silence and the weight of their expressions became too heavy Tony excuse himself to find another pack of beer while Steve was left to reconcile and balm the wound. "Okay, maybe I agree that this isn't Natasha that she is innocent but we owe it to her to clear her name from this mess." That seemingly were the magic words and Clint instantly lost all the tension from his shoulders, Phil on the other hand contradicted the archer's movement. It was almost as if the tension from Clint's shoulder were lifted and placed on Phil's instead. Because he yet thought it was probable that Natasha was behind this. "We need your help to help her. We need you by our side. We owe it to her, Clint."

Yes they did. Each and every one on the Avengers was indebted to Natasha in one way or another. She was like an anchor that kept them grounded and then like a life raft keeping them afloat. She was a constant source of support to each of them. Whether it was Natalie Rushman comforting a dying Stark or Natasha forgiving and accepting the Hulk, or Tasha going to the world's end to bring back her partner, or the Natasha who introduced Steve to the modern world, she was always there. Sadly they couldn't say the same about themselves.

The words lingered in the air and then went stale but silence hung much longer until Tony returned with more beer to replace the empty bottle of his.

Clint ran his hand over his face in defeat. Steve was right, he owed her. "When do we start?"

Tony nearly jumped in joy. "Now." was the mutual response.

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**12 MONTHS EARLIER**

Tony soon found a bar to hang out for a while. Being in France was a blessing because not many people knew him out here, and even if they did (of course they did) non one, wisely, approached the fuming man. He sat himself down in one of the booths and angrily signaled for a bottle of Whiskey.

Joining the team was a huge mistake, he didn't know why he did it in the first place any way, but something told him that he needed this. He missed the action, missed the rush of adrenaline as they fought the bad guys, and missed his dysfunctional family. Sure the whole dying ordeal was tough to handle but he got over it. For that he was eternally thankful to Pepper, he knows he isn't the easiest of guys to be with, but Pepper managed just fine and he loved her for it. Months of therapy later he was finally ready for some action again. And the first opportunity presented itself when Phil came knocking on his door. He accepted the mission without even knowing what the nature of the mission was. He agreed blindly.

Now that Bruce mentioned it, Tony finally realized what the mission require them to do-to take down one of their own. He doesn't think he could to it, not after everything she had done for him.

For starters she was there for him even after her mission as Natalie Rushman was over. Of course it wasn't straight forward obvious help but he knew she kept tabs on him and more importantly Pepper. He was grateful for that.

She wasn't seen around much after the whole New York deal, majorly because her priorities laid with Clint, and he respected that too, but he knew she yet knew how everyone else where doing. Then EXTREMIS and Killian shit happened and he felt utterly alone and abandoned. But before he could complain, she comes down again as his saving grace-invisible but always there. Maya told him before dying that a woman with red hair convinced her not to go with Killian and to see the good in the billionaire-even though he maybe a narcissist idiot.

When all had turned back to normal and his surgery a success he received an anonymous note that read: You will always be Iron Man. Stay safe and take care of Pepper and Happy. Take care of yourself too.

He instantly knew who it was from.

He was down on his fifth glass of whiskey when he decided that he couldn't –wouldn't bring her in. Yes, because he owed her but also because she deserved to be saved too.

He could be her savior.

**AN: Thanks for reading and now please grace this story with a REVIEW.**


	7. Life is good

**AN: Great big cookies and chocolate bars to Sailorraven34, Theatre and Carolzocas. And to all the followers a huge hug from Nicky.**

** Theatre: Thank you for your review. I do agree putting a proper timeline would be utterly helpful.**

**Chapter: 7: Life is good.**

**January 2016.**

It was the time to uphold Barnes part of the mission. And so far this was the most risky one they had to undertake. The trio of them had already infiltrated the CIA and the FBI and Interpol, like it was cherry pie and had pages upon pages of information accumulated at their disposal.

Turns out the CIA had no bloody idea about any of HYDRA's whereabouts or any of their bases but to their sorry credit knew about HYDRA. Heck they thought even the Black Widow was an urban legend up until the point that she had willingly (Unwillingly) uploaded SHIELD on the internet. The Winter Soldier yet remained a Ghost and no files on him were found. So Nicky, Natasha and Barnes copied all the files that they could find on Romanoff and crashed their entire system. They also were smart enough to download files on various Russian agents and other criminals just to mess with the CIA. Once Riordan had made sure to clear their trail, they left as silently as they had come. The fact that the CIA hadn't realized that their base had been compromised was downright pathetic. Really these guys were considered as intelligence agency?

Natasha was currently lounging on the leather couch in a white tank and military grade cargo pants that she grew to love, and though the weather called for something more short and cottony, Natasha couldn't bring herself to change her attire, too engrossed with the file in hand. Times like these were essentially down time. They were free to do as they pleased as long as they laid low. That meant Riordan had to avoid bar fights. That meant he had to spend his pent up energy constructively and that consequently meant sparring sessions. Honestly he was an overjoyed Labrador on a sugar rush or something. But he wasn't half that bad, in fact Natasha found it difficult to hate hi, despite his vexing behavior. It was saddening to know that this carefree behavior of his was just a brave front he put up.

In many ways Clint Barton and Nicky Riordan were two of a kind. Both had toned bodies, muscles that bulged but not ballooned and a smile half lingering on a smirk that drove her mad. Their carefree attitude and complete disregard for authority was another point of similarity and she could tell both of them were fiercely protected of the ones that they loved. Of course she couldn't account for Clint any longer but she did know him for a decade, didn't she? Nicky, she knew for longer and was certain that his priorities were set in stone. He promised to be her friend once upon a time and he was sticking to it.

"Hey Natalia, want to go a few rounds?" Speaking of the devil… Riordan said pooping out of nowhere.

She gave him a look of disinterest and went back to her file, knowing that he would eventually get distracted and find something to wreck. Unfortunately for her, this wasn't one of those times and that persist petulant bastard kept on poking her hip until she finally relented.

"That's the spirit, Nat?"

She would have argued and excused about having work to do but her mind wasn't completely focused at the moment and she thought 'What the heck, I wasn't paying attention anyway, might as well go a few rounds'.

So they made their way to the roof that allowed them to have the space they required and the fresh air was always a plus. The Cabin that they had rented was by the border of Thailand. This was done for many reasons. One the place was pleasantly isolated from civilians and other peepers. Two, scenery was beautiful and provided ample area for target practice and such things. Third and mostly importantly they could eaves drop on the Vietnamese military. The climate as mentioned before was hot and sticky but there was that forgiving breeze that made everything a little more tolerable. Nicky and Natasha stood opposite to one another, sizing their opponent up and waiting for the other to make the first move. They moved around each other in careful anticipation before Natasha made the first move.

She threw in a perfectly aimed punch to the nose which he flawlessly deflected as she knew. While he was busy pushing her right fist back she quickly attempted to throw him another one with her left arm. Nicky sensing the sudden shift in the air tuned his attention on the other arm while twisting her first one. He used her momentum against her and flipped her down on her back before he made a move to straddle her and incapacitate her. But she wasn't anything if not good at combat and bought her knees to her chest just as he was about to press down on her. Once he had places all his weight on her, despite her knees coming in the middle, she pushed back, her knees pressing down like a compressed spring and then suddenly releasing all that tension. The sheer force of that was enough for Nicky to be thrown off balance. He was flat on his back for a millisecond before pushing himself back up again just in time to see Natasha do the same. After that the fight was pretty much evenly matched and soon their fight seemed more like a practiced dance, fluid and graceful. Punch here, deflect there, kick and retaliate.

The fight went well over an hour before the Russian had successfully pinned Nicky down. Her knees were on either side of his hips holding him perfectly in place. Her arms held his down by his head and if he was of any real threat-that's it he would be dead. Her face-her beautiful, flawless face was mere inches from his and the exertion they had put themselves through caused their heavy breaths to mingle.

"Kiss me." He says and she thinks that her brain isn't getting enough blood or oxygen otherwise she never would have agreed, but she did and she leans down further to delicately place her lips over his.

And it was always this way. If she had a lot on her mind, was tensed or wound up or simply feeling reckless this is what she would do. This is what she would let him do. It didn't matter who needed it or who initiated it but as long as they didn't remember a thing while they screwed, it was all good. It isn't the first time they did it either. Nights of successful mission ended up like this mostly. Nights of their down time being drunk resulted in them going back to her room and screaming out their release.

Today they performed the deed on the roof, under the open sky for the world to see, to hear, though no one was around, but it turned them on any way. His shirt went flying first, her pants next and they were ready before they knew it, pressing against each other, moaning and grasping and breathing in her exhale, swallowing his grunts. Dirty words whispered like secrets, screams hushed like lullabies. And they do it again and again and again until they forget what exactly they wanted to forget in the first place.

Nicky is the physical escape she needs, the one who understands and loosens the tension in her shoulder. Oh lord but it is so much more than that. He can never be just another body to screw, not after all that he does for her. He is her-she doesn't quite know but damn it, he is something. That she knows, he knows.

It's never his name that she screams when she comes undone just like it is never her name he cries out-but it's no one else's either-and that's more than enough. They don't need to compartmentalize anything. They can't and don't ever want to.

"We should head down stairs." She speaks first, she always speaks first after this. "I have research to complete."

He gives her a monosyllabic reply as he pulls his pants up. "You reckon he must have heard us, going at it?"

"I pretty positive even the dead must have heard us."

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.

The night brought down rain that was just a soft zephyr away from being pleasant but hey, he would take whatever salvation the rain bought. The gentle rhythm is highly appreciated too. It makes concentrating on the task at hand so much easier. Currently he was busy laying down the perfect plan to break into the National Security's center. Natasha had already done a marvelous job, getting the exact location of the center and Nicky surprisingly didn't screw up his part of the operation and had managed to get the building s Blueprints without any accidents. Barnes had been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now but nothing came together. Every plan he had decided was half assed and completely faulty. It was embarrassing. He should be able to plan things way sooner than this and yet…

He hears a ruckus coming from the kitchen and then light footsteps making its way towards his room. He doesn't even have time to straighten the mess of papers and files on his bed before a knock sounds on the door. The person on the other side, Natasha he is sure, doesn't even wait for a reply before pushing the door open and entering.

"I bought you some dinner."

He swears out loudly at that, it's almost too comical because Natasha lets out a hearty laughter.

"I promise it's not Ramen." She says cheekily. And she can see the relieve wash over the soldier. "It's Mac and Cheese," The soldier goes back to his disgusted face but Natasha pulls the cover off the tray and he is greeted with the aromatic fragrance of Dim Sums and not _packaged noodles for once._

She gracefully moves towards his bedside table and places the food on it before picking up one of the many papers cluttering his bed. She gives it a cursory look before picking up the next one and then another. "So what's the plan?"

"There is no plan yet." He replies after a moment of silence. No plan? Barnes hasn't come up with a plan in 10 hours? That was shell shocking to be honest.

But Barnes must have been pretty preoccupied for not having even the ground work for a mission. The Dim Sums lay untouched. Normally Barnes would satisfactorily gulp down anything that isn't noodles but today even the prospect of cooked (actual cooked) meal doesn't sound tempting. Instead the metal armed man, runs a hand down his face and despondently looks back at the files.

"I-I don't know if I want this anymore."

Oh God, this was bad….this was very bad. "What do you mean you don't want this anymore? Barnes this is the last step, this is the end of the line. Why stop?"

He says nothing, just dejectedly hides his face in the palm of his hands, bending forward to curl in on himself. He mumbles something that Natasha doesn't seem to catch.

"What?"

And there's that mumble again.

"Barnes, speak up. Is everything okay?"

She closes the door and bolts it because she knows that's the only way he will open up. "I am scared."

Something in her freezes. She is scared too. "Why?"

"Because I don't know what happens after this. What do we do, who do we become? Where do we go?"

The tension is creeping back, crawling its way up from her toes, to her spine and wrapping itself up around her heart like a barbed wire. Two years-she had been trying to avoid these questions for two whole years. She shakes off some of the thorns that figuratively poke her heart and inhales a calming breath before sitting by the window, opposite him.

"What do you want to be?"

"Is this some therapeutical question?" His sense of humor.

"No." her candid reply.

"I want to be me."

"So be you, what's the big problem?"

"I don't know who I am."

"That's stupid, everyone knows who they are."

"Not everyone. I thought I knew who I was, apparently I don't." His voice-so sad, so much in agony. "I am supposed to be the Winter Soldier, working to HYDRA. I am supposed to be a boy with no history, family-and yet these files, these paper belie everything. Everything that I thought made me, me was false. Everything I know is pulled out from under me and I feel like falling down a dark abyss. You know what I mean?"

Oh, how she knew what he meant. She has experienced it all first hand. She wants to tell him she knows what he is feeling up words don't sense, not when she looks at him and her eyes betrays her speech. It was a stupid question on his part too because he knows she knows. This wasn't the first time that they had this kind of profound conversation.

Over the past two years, a lot has changed. Its feels like a long vacation in self-discovery. Sometimes they discovered things they smiled about, other times were nights of silent, secret tears.

By the time they were done with Interpol, they had only found a file on Barnes. It held a picture of him with the name James Barnes and his military serial number. It was followed by several instances of his time in the American army during the war alongside Captain America. And then as if to save the best for the last, the final page contained his death certificate. If that did come as a shock to him, he did a marvelous job of hiding it. But she knew this kind of information had to affect him, it had too.

That night Barnes hadn't come out of his room at all. Nicky punched a wall in anger because how can anyone stoop so low? How far can a Government go to gain power? How can someone be so inhumane as to brainwash a person, recreate everything about them, probe their brain and thoughts and twist them so something so cruel?

So Natasha knocked once, then twice on his door before rudely barging in to find the man sitting on the floor on the dark room staring into space. His eyes were slightly red as if to indicate the tears that hadn't been shed yet, but this fingers trembled in such a way that gave away his pain.

It was the first time in a long time that she opened her mind to someone. She gave him the memories he was missing, showed the bullet scar that he gave her. Told him everything she knew about him, heard about him while in the Red Room. She told him everything not because she pitied him but because she knew-knows what it is like questioning your own existence.

And because he had nothing to offer in return to this relief that she had given him, he graced her with a rare smile. A thank you. Her welcome was a sweet kiss on his cheek.

**JUNE 2015**

New Mexico is as close as she wants to be to the States but Interpol had a base there and information was crucial.

Since Interpol was a global corp. they could hack into any base they like considering that all them consists of the same information, though their headquarters were in Lyon, France. Mexico also had security that could be easily tipped and easy to handle so this had to be their best bet.

Nicky had done the surveillance of the area for nearly two weeks picking up the guards names. Shifts and mannerisms. The start of the third week was when they had to break in. And on the contrary the security isn't at their weakest at midnight, instead they are the most alert then. The perfect time to break in was the afternoon-lazy, lazy afternoon.

The files had been obtained with ease but nothing after it was easy. The bulk of the information they retrieved was mainly based on Barnes and HYDRA's operations during the World War. To put it mildly there was nothing pretty in those files and even the nostalgia can't suppress the bile that rises in your throat. I was like waking up from a hangover, you have no recollections of what had happened but there are marks on your body tell a story you can't piece together.

Barnes managed to get out without having the breakdown, Natasha and Nicky both hoped he didn't have, clenching the flash drive of his file like a life line. Maybe it was.

While Natasha was comforting Barnes that night, Nicky set up his computer and uploaded the file on Barnes that he had stealthy made a copy of. What he found was sickening to say the least. The things that had been done to him was utterly repulsive and horrifying. It almost made Riordan want to puke. But as Nicky pushed down the vomit a new feeling rose up, it was almost as if he wanted to protect Barnes. It was a strange feeling but then again living with these two people day in and day out, such protectiveness was to be expected.

So he hastily scribbled down some lines on a piece of paper and stuck it to Barnes door (he could hear sniffling from the inside), packed his bag and left.

He returned four days later just as his note had said, in time to find Barnes and Natasha sparring together. He cat called on Natasha in his usual fashion and when they broke off to glare at him in their usual fashion, he waved off a ward of files in his hand.

The files were directly handed to Barnes as he stepped towards him and cautiously opened one file.

There were files on mission he did for HYDRA, missions he didn't remember doing. Files on the initial days in HYDRA's custody, pictures of him being brainwashed, in cyro and so much more. It was everything he needed to know about himself. From his house in Brooklyn to his quarters in Russia. Everything that they couldn't gather in a year and a half neatly and marvelously done in four days.

"How-wher-what-how did you find me?" Barnes asked his voice filled with emotions he couldn't show.

Nicky just shrugs in nonchalantly as he sees Natasha smile from behind Barnes and it's enough to know that he did right. He did well. "Pulled in some strings in Ukraine. Always thought Government intelligence was shitty. If you want to find out something, the back allies is definitely the place to go.

Barnes extend his hand to shake Riordan's as a form of 'thank you'. It's pathetic he knows. A handshake doesn't even begin to show how grateful he is but that's all he has to offer. That and a small smile.

Nicky looks down on the extend hand and raises his brow. He instead grabs the outstretched hand pulls the big man into a manly hug. Barnes doesn't waste a minute reciprocating it.

Natasha looked over the men and couldn't help but think-Life was finally good.

**AN: Not so sure how I feel about this chapter, so leave a review and let me what you guys thought about it. Thanks a million.**


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